Looking Back With Fondness
by HowAboutThat
Summary: Dipper Pines has difficulty with grief after the death of his Grunkle Stan. (Warning: Character Death) (Dipper-centric) (Four-Shot) (If you have a better summary, tell me after the last chapter's posted)
1. Chapter 1

HAT: Alright, this is a little "Goodbye Gravity Falls" thing and for some reason, I'm doing it in the saddest way possible. Hooboy, this is gonna be tough to write. But let's go it! I hope that you enjoy.

(Edit: It killed me writing this and I cried multiple times. I cried five and a half times _at least_ )

(Started Writing: Nov. 21, 2015 Finished Writing: Jan. 4, 2016)

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls- Alex Hirsch does- and the one OC in this, I don't own either (she belongs to jamiekinosian on tumblr). I simply own the plot of this story.**

* * *

There is absolutely nothing sadder than leaving people you love.

That's what I thought when I was twelve, leaving Gravity Falls with my sister, Mabel. Now- at the age of eighteen- I realize that the saddest thing is having someone you love leave you.

It was a normal Wednesday- the last one before summer and before we got to go back to Gravity Falls for the summer like we'd been doing since we were twelve. Mabel and I were complaining about finals- and high school in general- and talking about how we'll move to Gravity Falls after graduation to stay with our great uncles and monster hunt all the day long when we got the news. We were confused about why our dad's eyes were red and he looked so downtrodden and hesitant. We had no idea what he was about to tell us, but I remember my stomach dropping and twisting at the sight of him and one shared glance with Mabel and I knew she felt the same way.

That normal Wednesday turned into the worst day of our lives when we found out our Grunkle Stan died.

I remember being numb- I couldn't _feel anything._ I couldn't even move when I heard my sister's heartbreaking squeak before she burst into tears. I refused to believe it- Grunkle Stan's a prankster and a conman who's survived everything life's thrown at him. It _couldn't_ be true. He was doing a sick, twisted prank and when we get down to Gravity Falls, he'll be standing right there laughing at us for believing that he'd actually died and tell us it was a way to trick our dad into letting us come down early then Mabel and I'd jump him and ridicule him for yanking at our hearts and then everything would go back to normal.

Or- at least- that's what I was hoping would happen...

Now it's Friday night and we've just got to the Shack.

I rush out of the car and rush inside to search for Grunkle Stan throughout the entire house and basement. I search every nook and cranny- I even check under the floor boards just in case he accidentally shrunk himself in between Wednesday and now.

"Dipper," Mabel says sadly as I look in the kitchen cupboards.

"Not now, Mabel, I'm trying to find Grunkle Stan," I snap. "Are you gonna help me or not?"

"Dipper, he's not here."

I glare at her. "You're wrong! He's probably just _shrunk_ himself or something. Now help me look for him."

"Dipper! He's gone!" Mabel shrieks after me as I walk out into the hallway. "I get it- I didn't want to believe it back in Piedmont either- but... but now that we're here we can't deny it."

"You don't know that he's dead, Mabel! He could just be playing another trick on us," I insist. "He _always_ does that."

"Dipper." I turn and look at my other great uncle- Stanford- and see his shoulders slumped and his brown eyes looking sad and have some... pity. "What your sister's saying is true... he's gone."

They're wrong- he's gonna pop up any second now and scare us like he always does. "I don't believe you."

I turn to walk away and I hear Mabel start to say something, but our uncle's words- whatever they were- halt her.

I search all night- I even look in places I've already checked multiple times just in case he was moving around- until I end up in Grunkle Stan's room at something like three in the morning. I hug the hat I got from him all those years ago like it's a teddy bear and feel a hollowness inside of my chest. I don't want it to be true- it _can't_ be true. It's _Grunkle Stan_. He's survived everything that life's thrown at him. He's chewed his way out of a car, punched a pterodactyl in the face, survived the oddpocolypse, and so much more. He's a liar and a cheat and a prankster and he's supposed to outlive us all. He's gotta be trying to pull the wool over our eyes. He can't be... he just can't be _dead_.

 _I swear if this is some messed up prank, I'm gonna beat the snot outta you,_ I think as I run a shaky hand through my hair. _He's not dead, he's_ not _dead..._

I end up thinking that until I fall asleep on his floor.


	2. Chapter 2

HAT: You thought it was over? Nah, son. That was only the beginning. You have two more chapters after this of emotional wrecking. Good luck with that. I hope you enjoy despite how... feelsy this entire thing is.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls- Alex Hirsch does- and the one OC in this, I don't own either (she belongs to jamiekinosian on tumblr). I simply own the plot of this story.**

* * *

The day of the funeral- once I see his body I don't be able to deny it anymore- or I could and say it's a clone or a wax figure or something, but I decided that once I got there and saw him and felt his cold skin, I'd accept it. Until then, they can't make me- I refuse!

I curse a little under my breath when I can't get the stupid tie to do what I want. Grunkle Stan would've probably been the one to help me and reteach me in my frustration and I almost expect him to come out and do as he's always done when I'm nervous or frustrated and put a hand on my shoulder and say "let me do it" and fix the tie for me.

When a hand is placed on my shoulder I look up expecting Grunkle Stan- I knew he wasn't dead!- but immediately my heart sinks when I see that it's Great Uncle 'Ford. He gives me a small, sad smile. He probably saw the disappointment on my face after seeing him.

"Let me help." I lower my head to look at our shoes- he's wearing black, polished dress shoes that are similar to mine, but they're rounded at the end instead of squared like mine- while my hands fall to my sides. He fixes my tie for me with a somber look on his face and once he's done he stands back and smiles at me. "There y'go... you look good."

"Thanks," I mumble.

Black suits- that's what we're wearing. I know Mabel's gonna wear a black dress that reaches down to her mid-calves and would be long sleeved, but very breathable- after all, I picked it out for her since she was too out of it to choose any funeral clothes.

"Let's go get your sister."

I feel a six fingered hand rest on my shoulder and lead me toward the attic where she's getting ready. I walk beside him and find myself glancing around and trying to find Grunkle Stan still. I want him to pop out and scare us more than I even wanted to know who the author of the journals was when I was twelve. I want him to be alive more than I've wanted _anything_ to be honest.

Great Uncle 'Ford knocks on the door and calls, "Mabel, sweetie, are you ready?"

After a few moments, Mabel opens the door and she looks... rough around the edges. She's done up nicely, but her eyes are puffy and red. I suddenly feel terrible for putting myself before her, but I wanted to prove that Grunkle Stan wasn't- _isn't_ dead so that neither one of us would be sad and we'd have our grunkle back.

"Let's go," Mabel says quietly.

Without any other words they make their way to the backyard. Along with our father, Soos, Melanie and their daughter, Wendy, Pacifica, Candy, and Grenda were there all wearing black.

It's an open casket funeral and it hurts seeing Grunkle Stan lying there pale and unmoving. My limbs feel like lead and I don't want to walk forward.

Maybe he'll sit up and scare us- that'd be just like him, after all.

We take turns saying our goodbyes and when I get there I feel for a pulse for a full two minutes before it suddenly crashes down that Grunkle Stan is dead. His skin is cold and feels like actual skin, and his hearrt should have beat at least once by now if he were drugged. This is all real- not a sick, twisted prank- and this is his cadaver. He's never gonna see us graduate, get married... have kids... or...

I feel tears in my throat immediately and my vision becomes blurred. I feel arms hug me and I look to see my tearful twin sister. After gulping in attempt to get the tears down, I hug her back and bury my face in her shoulder right before the first sob tears through my lips. I feel so weak for crying so openly in front of everyone- Grunkle Stan would've told me to man up at this point- but after a good minute I manage to pull myself together.

"Go sit down," Mabel murmurs quietly.

I go and sit in the front row while Mabel goes up to speak- Grunkle Stan requested that she specifically speak at his funeral since she'll try her best to make everyone happy. I don't blame him- if I die first, she'll speak at my funeral (and if she does, I'll be forced to speak).

Mabel takes a deep breath and then says, "Grunkle Stan was a great man... sure he lied, cheated, and stole, but he had a good heart. He cared about his family and the people he considered family. He protected us and he made us laugh and helped us get through everything from break ups to pterodactyl attacks. A lot of us probably want to curl in a ball and cry about him being gone- heck, some of us probably already have... but Grunkle Stan told me that everything has to end... and... and that we have to look back at them with fondness.

"Just because he's gone doesn't mean we can't look back on the times we had with him and smile and laugh. So long as we remember him and keep him in our hearts, he's never really gone... he's never really gone because of the impression he's made in each of our lives. So instead of thinking about all the things we didn't get to do, we should think about all the things we _did_ get to do. That way we'll have a reason to smile instead."

I feel a small, proud smile tug at the corner of my lips at her speech and I clap louder than anyone else- even dad and Great Uncle Ford. I refuse to cry- not here in front of everyone again- and when Mabel sits next to me I smile and whisper "good job" before our other grunkle- _living_ grunkle- goes up to speak about his brother.


	3. Chapter 3

HAT: Sorry that you don't get to hear- er- _read_ 'Ford give speech about his brother- couldn't make myself do it. I may go back and add one in later, buuuut... emotionally, I'm not up for it right now. Anyway, enjoy... or- y'know... get your heart broken- whichever you end up doing.

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls- Alex Hirsch does- and the one OC in this, I don't own either (she belongs to jamiekinosian on tumblr). I simply own the plot of this story.**

* * *

That night I end up in Grunkle Stan's room again with my pine tree hat in my hands. This was the first present that I got from him that summer- the first gesture that he cared about me and my sister- and my most precious item. It _hurts_ to know that he's gone and that he's never coming back. I had spent practically a week in denial and now I have no choice but to accept that he's gone. I'll never get to see him again.

"Why'd you have to die?" I ask quietly, though I know that he won't be able to hear me. "How could you do this to us? You... you were supposed to live forever."

I know that's a childish view, but it's always been hard to see such a rough and tough man like him dying over something so mundane like old age. He's supposed to go out with a bang or something. Something flashy because that's just how he is.

My grip on my hat gets tighter and I soon chunk it across the room with a frustrated shout. He wasn't supposed to die! He was supposed to see everything we accomplish and live till we were forty. He was supposed to be there for everything for twenty more years.

I want to destroy everything in sight, but- thankfully- I manage to find a bunch of rolled up ball of socks to chunk around the room until I finally calm down (however long that may have been).

I end up collapsing on the floor while hugging his pillow to my chest- it still smells like him with that cheap cologne that he always wore along with his aftershave and whatever one could name the somewhat rancid body odor. I take deep breaths to try and keep from crying, but it doesn't end up working and I sob into his pillow. At least no one else will hear me blubbering like a baby.

There's no telling how long I was curled up with my face buried in that pillow with my tears soaking the fabric, but by the time I'm finished crying, I feel a bit of numbness as I stare at the ground in front of me.

My arms hug the pillow tighter and I gulp thickly. _I want my Grunkle Stan..._

There's a knock on the door- slow and heavy- and I look up and glare at the door- I want to be left alone. I want them to leave me to this selfish pity party over losing my grunkle. I don't care if it's Mabel or dad- God forbid, it's Great Uncle 'Ford. I don't think I can handle looking at him at the moment since he looks painfully similar to his brother. I sit there and stare at the door for a long time so I assume whoever was on the other side walked away, but then there's another knock just like the first one.

My nose scrunches up and I shout, "Go away!"

Another knock.

"Leave me alone!" I shout before burying my face back in the pillow.

 _Why won't you leave me alone?_

When there's a more insistent, but still slow and heavy knock, I throw the pillow to the side and get up with anger boiling in me. I yank the door open to yell at whoever's trying to disturb me, but I don't see anyone there. I stick my head out to look both ways to see any sign that someone ran away, but I don't see anything.

 _I'm losing it,_ I think as I close the door and grab the pillow as I sit down on the floor.

I feel something- a large hand- on my shoulder and I look up and around, but I don't see anything. I run a hand through my hair and grit my teeth. _This is grief- my uncle went through it when my aunt died in that car accident. It's donna pass._

What I can't shove away with rationality is when my hat is put on my head and there's an extra weight on the brim.

I push the brim up and look around, but I still don't see anything. _A ghost? Would it be-? No- he's gone..._

" _Kid,_ " a rough, gruff and unmistakable voice says.

"G-Grunkle Stan?"

I knew it! I knew he was pulling a prank!... though it's a bit questionable how he got a realistic body.

I look around, but I'm disappointed when I don't see him. _Uncle Harry went through the same thing._

The possibility that I'm becoming insane with grief becomes more prominent- now if this were to happen next year, then maybe I'd be able to think differently and not have the fear of false hope. I don't want to believe that he's a ghost when it's all just something that grief made me hallucinate- heck, I could even be dreaming right now.

Suddenly I feel a pinch on my tricep and I hiss in pain while rubbing my arm- the fingers that pinched me felt calloused and rough- like...

"If it's really you... please... please do something to show me I'm not insane," I beg with my voice cracking for the first time in years.

A full minute passes with _nothing_ happening and I feel my throat close with tears and I bury my head back into the pillow- maybe if I'm lucky I'll pass out from oxygen deprivation and not have to feel the gaping hole in my chest or a few hours. _Damn it..._

" _Chin up, kid._ "

I look up and my heart leaps in my chest. Standing there is Grunkle Stan- wearing his suit, carrying his cane, with his eyepatch pushed up so it's not over his eye and his fez on. I _knew_ this was a prank!

Without restraint, I lurch forward to wrap my arms around him, but I pass right through him and my insides grow cold. I feel a second wave of denial run through me and I straighten up slowly and run my fingers through my hair repeatedly to try and calm myself- I don't want to cry anymore, but the tears are choking me and my breathing isn't even, it's ragged and keeps hitching when I try to breathe in to try and get air into my lungs.

 _No, no, no... no, please, no,_ I think and I choke out a sob despite trying to keep it in. _I just want this to be over._

It's too much.

I feel something cold on my face and look up at Grunkle Stan and realize he's trying to wipe away the tears that started falling I don't know when. He has a regretful look on his face and I manage to make out "I'm sorry, kid" on his lips.

I know that this thought shouldn't have crossed my mind- I know I shouldn't be angry- but I am and I think, _You should be sorry._

"How could you do this to us?" I demand with a quiet, shaky voice. "I... you were supposed to live forever... you were su-supposed to... s-supposed t' be there."

I can't hold it back anymore and I end up a sobbing heap on the ground. I don't know how long I sit there like that before I hear scratching. I look up and find Grunkle Stan looking at the ground in front of my feet and while his sword- since when was his cane a sword?- carves something into the wood. I frown a little and get up when he finishes and sheathes his sword- I'm gonna have to find that cane now- and look down at the words. They seem to be an incantation.

"You want me to say it out loud?" I ask.

He nods.

I'm desperate at this point to know what he wants and for this pain in my chest to go away so I read it aloud. When I finish suddenly I'm able to hear him _breathing_.

"Can y'hear me, kid?" I jump and look up at Grunkle Stan and he looks back at me with calm eyes. "I'll take that as a yes."

"What was that spell?" I ask.

"A little something to temporarily make you sensitive to spirits- y'know like those psychic mediums," he replies with a casual shrug and then his eyes become remorseful and he reaches out as if to ruffle my hair, but I don't feel anything except a bit of a chill. "I'm sorry, kid. Old age and not takin' care'ah myself the way I should kinda caught up't' me. Believe you, me, if I could've stayed alive long enough to become a great-great uncle, I would've, but..."

I feel so selfish for wanting him alive. He was probably in a lot of pain. I can remember all the grunts and groans of pain from when Mabel and I were _twelve_ and I can only imagine how bad it'd gotten after six years after decades of wear and tear on his body.

"I know," I mutter, my eyes dropping to look at his shoes.

I see his hand under my face and I know he's moving to lift my chin with his finger like he used to do. I could have been stubborn and kept my head down, but I decide to indulge him and look up into brown eyes that are very similar to my own.

"I know it's tough, but it'll get easier," he promises. "And know that I won't miss anything- I'll be with you guys every step of the way... y'got that?"

I gulp thickly and nod with tears wanting to fall- I can't speak otherwise he'd hear the tears in my voice. I want to hug him and smell his weird old man cologne and his favorite cigar smoke and to feel him hug me while he tells me that everything will be alright. I want to be twelve again and for this to be a nightmare so I can go and curl up next to him without being judged too much since I'd still be a kid. But none of that's the case- I'd pinched myself numerous times over the past few days and done enough to make sure that I'm not asleep.

 _Don't cry,_ I tell myself while blinking rapidly.

"Y'know... it's okay t' cry," he says with understanding brown eyes that are the same as my own.

When his scent hits me- the cologne and cigar smell- I lower my head and cover my mouth with my hand as I sob.

Who knows how much time passes before I manage to run out of tears. I notice- after I'm done crying- that I'm curled up on the bed and there's a ghostly feeling of a large hand stroking my hair- it's faint, but I can still feel it. I take comfort in the feeling- I may never feel it again.

Even more time passes before I can bring myself to speak, but when I do, I'm surprised at how clear it comes out.

"I'm gonna miss you, Grunkle Stan."

"I know, kid..." Stanley replies, his voice a bit more distant than before even if his hand continues to stroke my hair. "But I'll never be far... I promise I'll be there for you guys every step of the way. You're gonna be alright."

This is it. It feels so solidified that I may _never_ see him again after this because after this I feel like he'll be at peace.

"I love you," I whisper.

"I love you, too, Dipper," he says softly.

I take a thick gulp and choke out, "Goodbye."

"See ya, kid."

And then I couldn't feel his presence anymore, but his scent still lingers. I feel my chest contract, but... I've accepted that he's gone and that in order for him to be at peace, I had to let go. That night I fall asleep in his bed, curled up and emotionally exhausted.


	4. Chapter 4

HAT: The last chapter! To be honest, the chapter before this was more emotionally taxing than this one, but overall, this entire story's been the most emotionally taxing thing I've ever written so... yeah. Enjoy!

 **Disclaimer: I don't own Gravity Falls- Alex Hirsch does- and the one OC in this, I don't own either (she belongs to jamiekinosian on tumblr). I simply own the plot of this story.**

* * *

The next morning I wake up and I'm underneath the covers- someone must've come in and tucked me in. Probably either dad or Great Uncle 'Ford when I think about it. Grunkle Stan moved on, so he couldn't have possibly done it (but then again, it's Gravity Falls so many things are possible).

With a quiet groan, I sit up and rub my eyes. I feel tired, but I guess that's what happens when you cry all night over the death of your great uncle while he comforts you.

 _I saw Grunkle Stan last night._

I look around for him, trying to find any sign that he's there, but when I don't see him I feel my heart break a little. I had hoped so much wake up and find him there even if I knew that he probably moved on already.

Before emotions can constrict my chest anymore, his strong scent washes over me and I feel my shoulders relax and a smile tug at my lips for the first time in what felt like forever and a day. I get the feeling I would've been wallowing around for a lot longer if Grunkle Stan hadn't shown up last night.

After sitting there for _God_ knows how long, I make my way to Grunkle Stan's half bathroom- too risky in running into someone in the other restroom- and I clean myself up as best I can. My eyes are still puffy to show that I'd been crying all night long, but at least they're no longer red. As I observe myself- even after cleaning up- I realize I look _exhausted_. I know crying takes a lot out of a person, but _still._ I hadn't expected anything like this.

My stomach grumbles and I remember that I skipped lunch and dinner (grief has a funny way of filling someone up even if their stomach's completely empty). _Guess I should get something to eat._

I can almost hear Grunkle Stan's sarcastic comment to that thought- I'd been around him enough over the years to know what he'd most likely say.

Without any hesitation, I make my way downstairs and I hear morning chatter. I don't know why, but I stop to listen to what they have to say- their voices _are_ pretty low. It's as if they weren't trying to disturb someone that was in the living room instead of me when I was all the way in Grunkle Stan's room.

"I don't think he's gonna come out for a while," Mabel's voice says.

"Well, considering how he took the news and how he's been lately, I don't expect him to even eat a solid meal for a few more days," dad replies.

I hear a sigh- though I can't tell if it's dad's or Great Uncle 'Ford... possibly the latter, but their sighs are uncannily alike- I learned from within the first week of Great Uncle 'Ford being home when Mabel and I were twelve.

"We've gotta get him outta this funk," Mabel insists.

"Mabel, sweetie, things like this take time," dad assures.

"Your father's right. Give him a few more days and then you can start being a little pushy," Great Uncle 'Ford advises.

"But-"

I decide then to walk out and I'm unsurprised at their shocked faces when I walk in. Of course they wouldn't expect me to come downstairs for some food after my behavior last night and previous nights of denial and stubbornness.

"Morning," I croak.

"Morning," Great Uncle 'Ford says.

"What're you doing up?" Mabel asks.

I shrug and grab some cereal. "I got hungry so I came down here to eat."

I hear dad clear his throat. "What she means is... we weren't expecting you up this early."

Suddenly I wonder if they could hear me crying and talking to Stan last night. It hadn't crossed my mind until now.

For a moment I don't know what to say or how to react. So- instead of making stuttering for a comment I grunt in a Grunkle Stan-like fashion, "Didn't think I'd be up this early either."

"... How ya feelin'?" Dad asks hesitantly.

"I'm feeling..." _How_ am _I feeling?_ "Better."

Compared to how crappy I felt last night, I feel _fantastic_. I still feel like crap, but my chest doesn't hurt so bad and I'm not crying like a baby anymore. That's definitely an improvement.

"Better as in better or better as in _better?_ " Mabel asks while eyeing me.

I roll my eyes and say, "Better as in better... did we run out of cereal?"

"... sorry, bro-bro."

"That's alright," I say and put away the bowl and spoon. "What else is there for breakfast?"

"We've got breakfast bars," 'Ford offers weakly.

I grab two and pour myself a glass of milk- after checking to see if it was expired of course- and then dig into that. It should hold me over until lunch- or at least that's what I'm hoping. I don't wanna have to eat again until then- it'd be too troublesome.

"So, what're the plans for today?" I ask.

"Well, we were planning on holding this off, but... we're going to be reading the will today," Stanford says slowly, watching my face carefully.

If the funeral and Grunkle Stan's ghost hadn't solidified his death, this sure did.

I choke down my emotions and nod while saying, "Okay... better sooner than later."

I quickly down my milk and wash out my glass. I want to go and take a shower- hopefully by now my eyes aren't as puffy as before. We don't talk much after that, I go straight to the attic and grab my clothes and then go to the bathroom. I take my time doing everything- I don't want to rush it, but I definitely don't want to prolong it too much which is why I give myself twenty minutes instead of my usual ten (at most) that I allowed myself throughout the years to save Grunkle Stan some money.

Twenty minutes to myself before I have to go back down and interact with others- maybe more before we have to read the will.

It doesn't seem like enough time, but I end up downstairs fully clothed and refreshed to find everyone there already- including Soos and his small family and Wendy as the only new additions.

"Uncle Dipper!" their four year old girl shouts while running over to me.

"Hey, Ley," I say with a smile, feeling a bit of pain in my chest- Soos and Melanie had named their girl Stanley which is painful to say the least.

"Are you feeling better?" she asks, hazel eyes big and concerned.

I forgot that I had an emotional breakdown at the funeral right in front of her and everyone else.

I manage a smile and I ruffle her hair, "Yeah, I'm fine. How're you holding up?"

Stanley shrugs. "I'm doing fine."

I pick her up and decide that I wanna hold her like a teddy bear for now- to have at least one Stanley with me. After getting comfortable on the floor in the living room. Notably, Grunkle Stan's chair stays unoccupied and even Great Uncle 'Ford- who was about the only other one that regularly sat in it other than Grunkle Stan- stays standing to read the will instead of sitting like he _should_ in his old age. None of us say anything- after all it's his decision.

" _Might as well get this outta the way so I'm gonna skip all the formalities,_ " Great Uncle 'Ford reads- yep, Grunkle Stan wrote this himself. " _To Soos, Mabel, and Dipper, I give my business. You crazy kids scam as many people as you can and do it for cheap, too._ _To Soos, I give my fez, cane, eyepatch, and title of Mr. Mystery. To Wendy I give my knife and gun collection- I know how much you wanted them after finding them. To Mabel, I give all of my clothes and blankets and any material you can use to make something beautiful (yes, that means pretty much anything for sculptures, too, have at it my little artist). To Dipper, I give my car- take good care of her, she's been through a lot. To little Stanley, I give five..._ Wait when did he-? Never mind... _To little Stanley, I give five hundred thousand dollars for her education and the stuffed beavercorn that she's been wanting since she was a baby. Stanford, I give you the Stan O'War- take a break and sail or something. To Alex, I give my watch and gold chain collections- your obsession with my_ sh- things (Stanford doesn't want to curse in front of little Stanley) _can now be rewarded. As for the rest of my fortune, divide it evenly between yourselves and use it however you wish. Now quit moping and be greedy gremlins and take what's yours._ "

Even in his _will_ he somehow finds a way to make us smile a little. I have to admit, my jaw does drop at the large amount of money he's given _solely_ for Stanley's education. I _could_ say that this is blatant favoritism towards the one that shares his name, but what's the point? We all know that as soon as the girl was born, she stole his heart (though he still holds a high fondness for Mabel and no one can claim differently with the way he dotes- _doted_ on her).

"I'm rich!" Stanley crows, jumping up excitedly and looks like she wants to leap up and hug the person that gave it to her, but her hazel eyes tear up immediately afterward.

I hug my honorary niece when she starts to tear up. She probably wanted to hug her "Grandpa Stan" and tell him "thank you" but instead had to come to the realization that she can't because he's _gone_. I know the feeling. I murmur assurances to her, but she's shaking like a leaf.

"We didn't get to fight to the death to see who got to keep the name," she whimpers quietly.

Grunkle Stan often boasted about that- how when Stanley turned thirteen the two of them would fight to the death to see who got to keep their name. Stanley would always boast about she'd earn her name and she was _excited_ about her thirteenth birthday (even if she knew they wouldn't _really_ fight to the death). It's heartbreaking to know that she'll never get the chance to spend her thirteenth birthday with her Grandpa Stan.

"Hey," I murmur and pull away enough to look at her face and I don't speak again until she's looking at me. "It's gonna be alright... y'wanna know why?"

"Why?" she asks quietly.

"'Cause I'm gonna fight you on your thirteenth. After all- it wouldn't be fair for a big, strong girl like you to go against an old timer like the Stans."

"... should I be offended?" I hear Great Uncle Stanford ask the people nearby.

"Maybe?" Dad says and I can imagine him shrugging.

Stanley smiles up at me- it's still pretty sad and not as big as usual, but it's still a smile- and asks, "Will y'do the voice?"

"You mean this one?" I say, doing my Grunkle Stan impression- a fairly good one if I do say so myself.

"Uh-huh," she nods.

"Of course- I'll even put on the full get up, too," I reply in my normal voice, feeling a bit of hope spark in my chest.

"Thanks, Uncle Dipper," she says and- unexpectedly- gives me a kiss on my cheek.

I can't help the smile that tugs onto my lips. "No problem, Ley. Anything for my girl."

That sounds so much like Grunkle Stan talking to her that I'm almost convinced he temporarily possessed me in order to tell her that. Almost. I hardly ever call her "my girl" since she's always been Grunkle Stan's (even if she's her parent's, everyone knows that she's always been Grandpa's baby) but... for some reason I feel like she is "my girl" now. It's almost like Grunkle Stan didn't give me just his car, part of his business, and some of his money, but he also entrusted me with his precious grandchild.

 _I'll take care of her,_ I promise him as I bring her into a hug.

Somehow- in all of the madness and grief that I'd been wallowing in for the past few days- I managed to be put back together enough to look after Stanley. Even though Grunkle Stan came to me in my time of grief- and I feel he legitimately wanted to help me- I think he did that so that I could be there for Stanley... and I don't mind that at all.

 _You're gonna be alright, kid... you're gonna be alright..._

* * *

Hat: *pops out of nowhere* Surprise! Miss me?

Stan: I can't believe you killed me _again_.

Hat: At least it was of natural causes!

Stan: Yeah, yeah... this was a real tear-jerker, do you know how many people you made cry?

Hat: ... aaalll of them?

Stan: *opens mouth then closes it* ... okay, so technically that's right.

Hat: One of those people happened to be me when I wrote it. When I was writing this, I was in a fairly emotional state when writing this, actually... I- uh- I went through a loss myself probably not even a week before I started writing this so it wasn't all that hard to write emotions of turmoil... it was a good way to get out my emotions to be honest.

Stan: Yeesh... you alright, kid?

Hat: Oh, yeah. Aside from the usual angst from looking at stuff from this fandom, I'm pretty good. I just _reeeaallly_ need to focus on those humor fics that I started on.

Stan: Yeah, you kiiinda do. Anyway, we through here? Gotta get back to a tour in about five minutes.

HAT: *nods* Yeah, you go on ahead.

Stan: Review, everyone.


End file.
